Therefore I Am
by Colorslander
Summary: I died for this Holy War and all I got was this lousy dream sequence. Jo Centric


_Therefore I Am._

Disclaimer: If I seriously owned Supernatural or anything related to it, why would this be called fan fiction?

* * *

"i. My To-Do List"

* * *

"My name is Joanna Beth Harvelle."

And that's where it all starts. Where fate begins to turn; in this random, inconspicuous moment of her life that otherwise would not even bother to be any sort of memory .

Jo knows she should continue on her job interview, after all she wants to land this job as a bartender to help Dean out with the bills.

By why the hell work at another bar? Why quit one dead end job just to run to another and spend the rest of her nights serving assholes or scrubbing their vomit off the bathroom floor. Is this progress? Sitting in this damp, unimpressive hole in the wall which sits in an equally unimpressive notch on a map?

"Why the hell am I here?"

The question that drives men to philosophy, science, and theology. Or in this case, her into unemployment.

Her interviewer, a dark skinned man with sharp features_,_ is undeterred by this question and says, as if it is the most simple thing in the world, "Because this is where you are going to work." He then waits patiently for her to agree.

Jo knows she should accept his reasoning. But she simply doesn't, "This is getting pretty fucking creepy." So she gets up from her chair and walks out of the bar, without another word from the man or her.

* * *

It's a lot like waking up from a dream, she would later decide. It's amazing how five minutes can change the world.

* * *

She steps from behind the bar's door and takes a good look at where she is, and it feels like the first time (though not really the first time because that would just be weird, right?).

It's normal enough. Square houses, straight streets, clear blue skies.

Yes, normal. Very normal. Too normal. What the hell does "too normal" mean anyway?

"_It means I really should go home, get famously shit faced, and fuck until I pass out_," Jo isn't really the philosophizing type. Not that she never thinks but she would much rather do _something_.

But there was very little of something to do here and instead spends her time sitting on the curb, chin resting on her fist and staring at the faces of the buildings, searching for an epiphany. The buildings aren't gracious enough to offer one, so she keeps watching- she's probably there for hours. The sky begins to change as dark settles in but the buildings remain the same. She moves only to find a more comfortable position and keep her body from falling asleep.

Inevitably her cellphone rings a she ignores it for the first, second, third rings. By the fourth she pulls it out and opens it without giving the caller ID a glance, she already knows who it is.

"So, how'd it go?"

Straight to the point. That's Dean. Very normal Dean.

"I walked out," Jo waves her hand in the air flippantly, just like she does with her words, and she continues to stare off into nothing in particular.

"What? Why?"

"I didn't want it," and then she adds, almost as an after thought, "it doesn't have a smell."

"What?"

"The bar, it doesn't smell like anything? Isn't that strange?"

"You didn't want the job because… you don't like how it doesn't smell?"

"This entire town doesn't have a smell," mostly mumbling to herself, eyes glazing over easy polish and red brick, then with more focus states, "I'll be home later." And turns off her cellphone.

She's acting weird and she knows it, like she doesn't want the job, the town, or the boyfriend. Well, she could live without the bartending, she's made of better stuff, and a life on the road doesn't sound so bad. The boyfriend?

Jo gets up and dusts herself off; she wants a drink, but the closest bar in town is the one she just walked out of. So she settles for a nearby coffee shop and she orders it black.

The coffee shop is small, homey painted walls, wood floors, and modest chairs to sit in or along the building. She opts for outside because she just can't handle the fact that the coffee shop doesn't even smell like coffee. Standing in there makes her feel lost, like she knows she forgotten something but she can't quite remember what it is.

There's a man there that wasn't before, dressed too expensive for a town like this one, a clearly handsome face if it wasn't for the most unsettling brown eyes she's ever seen. Like they look right at you, and everywhere around you, and then right through you. Calculating and judging.

He retires to a seat right next to hers and continues to stare, his gaze creeping on her last nerves and she isn't sure if she's going to slink away nervously or just punch him in the face. She knew that on some level she was attractive and had no lack of appreciative stares from the opposite sex, but that did not mean she welcomes them. And she doubts that he is going to ask her on a date anyway.

"What are you doing here?"

No, not going to ask her on a date, indeed.

"Drinking coffee," it is the best answer she comes up with.

The man does not blink or stir and she wonders if he has ever been acquainted with emotion. Instead he says, "You should be in the bar, asking for a job."

Jo has no business with this nonsense- a stranger more than a man who seems to know what she does and who she is, "I don't have to do a damned thing but sit here and drink my fucking coffee."

Terse and acid- defiance at her best.

So she sits there, damnit, and drinks her godamnned coffee, then gets up and leaves. The entire time the man stares at her, as if he's waiting for her. To talk? To go back to the bar? To sprout horns from her forehead and shoot stars out of her ass?

Whatever he is waiting for, she doesn't give it to him.

* * *

"It's been really weird day," she tells the elder Winchester, who is busily stuffing his mouth to full capacity. He stops for a second.

"Weird how?" almost as if he doubts it. It is, after all, a small stupid town where only small stupid things happen. Nothing weird happens here.

"Well, nothing huge. Not like, god and his army came down to earth, or ghosts running around in the dark or anything like that. Nothing happened. It was just weird."

Deans swallows the last bit of food and chalks it up to girl things. Dean is a hell of a man, but sometimes less of a conversational partner. She knows she's as lucky as they come but at the same time she wonders why she's with him. Despite it all, she knows he isn't like a part time job at a bar- this is exactly what she wants. Dean and her.

She pushes conversation out of the way and kisses him, dinner and worries forgotten. He picks up on her urgency and returns it. From the kitchen table to the bed, she rakes her hands through his hair and on his back. As she peels her clothes off the coffee shop flies from her mind and the only thing that replaces it is Dean.

Oh.

"_Dean_!"

This is right, she thinks, tired and satisfied. It's very right, so she can't explain why she untangles herself from Dean's snoring shape, slips on a pair of shorts and a jacket, and leaves the house.

She just may be the biggest idiot she's ever known, walking all the way back to the coffee shop at the dead of night, arms huddled to her chest as if she is shivering from the cold. She arrives at her destination and wonders what is more stupid, the fact that the man from before is still there, waiting patiently for her, or that she is not surprised by this at all.

"What's going on here?" she demands slamming her hand down on the innocent table.

"You should be at that bar, accepting a job."

She wants to throttle the man in front of her but she isn't sure what good that will do, so she asks, "why?"

"Because that's what you must do."

Ugh, what a fucking headache.

"Why do I have to do that?"

The man eyes prickles her skin, "Why would you not?"

"Godamnit."

"You should watch your tongue," he says, he shifts a bit as if to show her his irritation, "beings like yourself should not sully The Name."

Jo has no clue what he is saying but she's pretty sure she's offended, "beings like myself."

The man hesitates, "You are aware but… not aware." she can read '_Something is not right_' in his disposition- the closest to a genuine reaction she has gotten from him, so she presses him harder.

"Aware of what?"

"Ah. You don't understand? That you are not real."

Jo blinks. Part of her wants to laugh right in his face but she's closer to crying.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You simply do not exist as a person or soul. You are simply a series of actions and a role to play, not an individual. That is why you must go back the building and get the job."

Jo has a million retorts. Most of them accompanied by rude hand gestures. But she only stands on thinks.

Something is strange in this town. The bar has no smell. The coffee shop has no smell.

Worst of it all, she has no smell.

* * *

[A/N]

I was originally not going to put this up since I'm way behind on Supernatural and have kinda been scared away from the fandom in general. But I figured what the hell, I need practice writing and this world could use a little more Jo love. I'm not necessarily a huge Dean/Jo fan but Abandoned All Hope made a believer out of me. Thanks for making me love the pairing as Jo dies, SPN.

The whole thing reads kind of awkward, which is kind of what I was going for. It's also why I decided to write in present tense even when I almost never do. It also could be because I haven't seriously written for years. But you know…

I haven't been active on FF net for a long time and I have to say… I am completely confused with all the new things. They're nice and all but I'd give it all away for something that kept proper formatting though.


End file.
